As part of our multi-year attempt to visit the capital cities of Great Britain and Ireland, Edinburgh was our next destination. There is ongoing discussion within the group about the viability or desirability of a visit to Belfast. One side that wishes to complete the list wants to go, the others are painfully aware of how often we cause offence and the ramifications of doing that in a country synonymous with the word 'troubles'.
However for this trip Bonnie Scotland was the destination and a relatively early start was required. The weather in Denbigh could be described best as 'bloody dismal' but as the car headed further and further north the rain died down and the sun shone, in clear violation of the commonly held assumptions about Scotland.
We crossed the border with no fuss and made it to a train station on the outskirts of Edinburgh where we dropped the car hoping it would remain on its four intact tyres by the end of the weekend instead of a collection of half bricks. The train was bright and fast and a scant eighteen minutes later we were standing in Waverly station right in the heart of the city.
It occupies a dip or valley right in the middle of the city that used to be a loch but is a fairly standard modern train station. However as you emerge upwards from the station the architecture assaults you on all sides. You've got the Gothic confection of Scott's monument to your right and the aggregated stone facades and hundreds of buildings leaning over of the left. It's quite an impressive sight.
We headed up the hill to the left on onto the Royal mile (past Viva Mexico) and turned left away from the castle towards the parliament and headed down a gently sloping hill to our flat above a fudge shop. A mere four flights of circular stairs later we let ourselves into a light and airy space at the top of the building which afforded lots of sunlight and views both of a section of the Royal Mile and the building site at the back of flat.
Taking a scant few moments to drop off the luggage we headed back out into the city streets. Edinburgh seems old in the venerable sense of the word. Lots of granite and stone buildings, sturdy enough to withstand the worst of the Scottish Weather. The buildings themselves seem fortified in some way as if the weather could become militant at any second and force a siege.
However in our incredible luck the weather remained bright and cold for the rest of the weekend, you could just about warm up in a patch of sun but as soon as it disappeared you'd be freezing again thinking about hot chocolate and roaring fires...
We decided to head to a pub that both Myself and Mrs Parry had on our "Must visit" lists which was back on the other side of Waverley Station.
PUB NUMBER 1 : THE DOME
This is probably the most impressive pub we visited. Housed in an old bank there's oak and marble for days and the titular Dome soars overhead in the main bar where we managed to secure a seat. It being but a scant two months to Christmas they had already bedecked the entire place in tinsel and glowing lights with wreaths winding around the stone columns that soared to the ceiling.
Having previously remortgaged the house, we were able to afford a couple of pints and cocktails and although it wasn't the most expensive round of the weekend it came close. We used the oracular power of Google to find "The Best Haggis in Edinburgh" TM and booked us an early table as by that point we were starting to get a bit hungry.
We were served at the table by a gentleman with a soft North American accent that I took as Canadian. (See the Dublin entry for our previous encounters with Canadians in bars.) However turned out he was from Virginia, he did say that he would usually be upset by being mistaken for a Canadian but with Trump being such a poor ambassador for the American brand he didn't mind so much!
We left there soon after and walked to the Cafe Royal which was super busy. We simply didn't have the time to invest in the process of
a) securing seats,
b) wading to the bar,
c) forgetting the order,
d) reordering the correct drinks,
e) going back for some nuts,
f) wading back to the seats that had been fiercely guarded by the advance party
g) drinking the drinks
with enough time for our date with "The Best Haggis in Edinburgh" TM so we walked back onto the mile and onto;
PUB NUMBER 2 : THE ROYAL MCGREGOR
This was a relatively narrow bar with space at the back for tables on a slight raised platform. Having purused their extensive menu we ordered four flights of drinks, Beer for Mr P, Lager for Me, Gin for Caz and Whisky for Em.
The beers were fine and perfectly drinkable, Em's whiskys were varied and seemed delicious (with a little side dish of chocolate) but Mrs P won the day by having three types of gin with their own botanical's all of which were spectacular.
The Haggis came, stuffed in a chicken for Em, on burger for the Luddite (me) and the Parry's had theirs with the traditional neeps and tatties in a roundel lathered in that typical Scotch libation whisky sauce.
Feeling mighty full and in need of some of that sharp Scottish air we headed out into the night and onto our next destination:
PUB NUMBER 3: THE WHITE HART
The Oldest pub in Edinburgh (allegedly) and co-incidentally the name of the oldest pub in London (allegedly) as well. Perhaps they were part of some old-style chain of pubs, like a ancient Wetherspoons. By this time the Nightlife was in full swing and the bar was rammed. I utilised literally seconds of pub knowledge and specially sharpened elbows to get to the bar.
This is a skill I'm sure harks back to our ancestors hunting herds of wild beasts on the African Savannah. Spot the weak link and press forward to reach the holy land of the bartop. Then begins the delicate dance of getting the bartenders attention without coming across as an demanding arrogant twat. Here's a hint: don't wave a twenty about like a lace fan.
Having secured a couple of gins and decent whiskys and we sat outside for a bit for a breath of fresh air. As we were sipping our drinks the police brought out a lady and popped her in the back of the van. She looked as calm and as you or I would be going out to get groceries so I imagine this was a standard friday night for her.
Following this we started to wander home until we stumbled (literally) across
PUB NUMBER 4: THE WEE PUB
This tiny bar was about the size of a normal front room but the novelty was kind of ruined by the fact that the larger bar next door had bought the place and knocked a hole in the wall. This mean the Wee Pub acted as a kind of chillout room rather than it's own entity but was a pleasant spot to end our first day sipping drinks and trying to forget about the uphill walk on the way home.
Day 2
Woke at seven to the sound of diggers demolishing the car park behind the flat. Thanks Guys!
I realised if I got up and out quickly a I could make it up to Carlton Hill for sunrise so I threw on some clothes and kissed the oblivious Em on the cheek and headed out. I grabbed a double espresso at the nearest Starbucks and powered on. The weather was bitter in spite of being layered up so the best method of keeping warm was to walk as quickly as possible.
The steps up were hidden between two apartment blocks and steeply rose up one side of the valley that bisects Edinburgh, there are a number of impressive building around which I think are part of the Government but not the actual parliament (we'll save that for tomorrows early morning walk) and you pass around them to ascend a gently rising road that brings you out on one of the most spectacular views I've seen in a city.
The hill has a Parthenon style building and tower and affords beautiful views of the city river and Arthur's seat. I tried to take it all in as best I could in the freezing morning air. You get a real sense of place there of where you are within the city and how the landscape envelops you. I listened to Keep Yourself Warm by Frightened Rabbit which has a rising rhythm which matched the gently rising light all around me
*Cough* Ponce! *Cough*
I walked down the other side of the park and met Rob outside the flat he too suffering with itchy feet first thing in the morning. We wandered down Grassside seeing the empty cold streets where there had been full cold streets hours before. Our wandering brought us to The Museum of Scotland and The William Chambers Monument.
Statues - An Aside
Statues are a great way of levelling over-inflated egos. However grand and magnificent you build the statue, you know it'll still be shat on by pigeons.
We walked up the street a ways to the Greyfriars graveyard home of the erstwhile Greyfriars Bobby who spent 14 years mourning his master. We discussed the fact that a cat wouldn't even wait until your body was cold before ingratiating themselves to a different family.
We headed northeast to see the castle in the dawning light before walking back through town to the flat stopping only at a Starbucks to bring caffination to the ladies we love.
- Caz - Latte no sugar
- Rob P - Latte one sugar
- Em - Decaff flat white {If by some collusion of circumstance it's caffeinated I would suggest running far far away and don't stop until you can't hear the giggles anymore.}
- Rob T - Double espresso.
After a quick refreshing stop we wrapped up and headed back out following the route I'd used a couple of hours previously heading up to the top of Calton Hill.
In the daylight you could see the firth of forth and bits of the famous bridge peeking up from behind the mountains. We took in the view and the cold air and headed down a different flight of steps. Walking through town we stopped in one of the many Whisky shops the city has to offer. A very nice gentleman sold Rob a rather fine bottle of whisky amongst the hundreds of lovely bottles that were there. I found a bottle similar to one I'd bought Em for a present probably ten years ago and it's value has Quintupled! In spite of the oppoutunity to make some cash we would have drunk it anyway as it was delicious! From there we walked to meet Rob and Caroline's friend Andrew who lives in the city.
Over haggis toasties and warming coffees he discussed a couple of places we might like to visit. One of which, he explained, got really good about 11 PM so don't miss it. The four of us exchanged surreptitious glances that said "Thanks for the suggestion but we'll be in bed by 11." Our theory is "Start early. Finish early. Wake up without a hangover."
After saying goodbye to Andrew we dropped the whisky back at the flat and headed to the castle where due to some foresight on the Parrys part we were able to get in for free! Bonus!
The Castle stands on a rock crop that juts out like a snaggled tooth over the middle of the city. Not having paid for entry we did a whistle-stop tour of feeling we had to glean something from every moment. We saw the crown jewels (busy and a bit bling for my taste), The great hall (Meh, it was passable) and Mons Meg which was a cannon that had been used in battle but was ceremonially fired once over the city and the cannon ball landed two miles away. They won't let them fire it at the inhabited city now. It's heath and safety gone mad I tell you!
After all this hard tourist-ing we deserved a drink so headed to
PUB NUMBER 5: THE DEVILS ADVOCATE
Which is a bar hidden in the folds of a side-street off the Royal mile. Unless you know where it is you'd never stumble across it. It's a modern bar but with that hipster theme of 'artisan' where the bar staff wear collarless shirts and leather aprons for a real-fake-authentic experience.
Anyway we settled around a artfully aged barrel table and had drinks.
Caz: Sitting by the Seine:
Ingredients: Henricks Gin, Absentroux, Dry Orange Curacao, Sustainable citrus soda, Peppercorn and mint.
Em: Idle on Islay
Ingredients: Bowmore 15yo, Cardamom Infused Hahlua, Noilly Prat, Elements of Islay PEAT, Hopped Grapefruit Bitters
The Boys: Beer.
Ingredients: Beer
It was lively but friendly and we got chatting with a big party next to us who were celebrating a birthday (we think, they were hard to understand as they'd been there for a lot longer and sampled the extensive menu). We decided the drinks were nice but it was time to move on. We walked further down the ally and ended up at:
PUB NUMBER 6: THE DORIC
Now this was an old fashioned old school pub. Wooden floors decent beer and had a genuine authenticity of a old drinking house that The Devils advocate was trying for but falling short. The walls were covered with old adverts and it was clear that this was a spot that people waiting for their train from Waverley station had passed time in for Centuries (literally).
We all had a quick beer in there and I was introduced to a beer referred to "The one on the left"due to Caroline's previous inability to pronounce Staropramen. (possibly due to too many Staropramen).
We walked up the hill and through a couple of art galleries (much funner after a couple of pints) to
PUB NUMBER 7: THE CAPTAIN
This was a narrow old style pub with a long bar against one wall and a raised platform at the near end of the bar. Down the far side there were a group of people singing and playing instruments very, very quietly. We listened for a bit but we as a group enjoy each others company and tend to talk in pubs. We also drink and occasionally sing but mostly talk. I can't remember the discussion but it must have got pretty animated as about about five minutes the barman came up and asked us, very politely, to keep the volume down as we were drowning out the actual musicians.
Thinking back on it now the raised area we were on made us higher than the rest of the pub and So our conversation was being broadcast over the whole pub.
Which begs the question:
WHY THE FUCK WEREN'T THE MUSICIANS SITTING ON IT?
I mean surely was made for folks to sit and play or stand and sing? Anyhow we copied Em's example downed our drinks, made out excuses and left.
PUB NUMBER 8: BREWDOG EDINBURGH
We arrived to find a busy pub with no real place to sit but ordered some excellent beers using my shares card. I'm sure it's just a token but I do have shares in the Brewdog Brewery which gives you a small discount in their pubs. Sadly none are near enough to work/Home to take advantage of so I'm always advocating for a trip to one! We found a spot at the end of the bar and found they were having a Dog Pawty - dog safe cake and dog beer for a dogs birthday. Now I'm not saying crashing a gods birthday party was the highlight of the trip, but it was damn fun playing with the dogs and sipping excellent beers.
We eventually found a table and had another pint or two before heading to Mama K's authentic American Pizza for some much needed grub and got back to the flat between 9 and 10.
Day final
It was the end of BST and I celebrated the Clocks going back in the age old traditional manner of sleeping in a bit. I got up at 7 not 8 after a really good nights sleep. Mr P and I walked down the mile to Holyrood had a wander around. The new parliament building is impressive and very modern on the outside providing a real contrast to the old stone building that surround everywhere else. There were some poems written in the stone in a similar manner to the Sennedd of which my favourite was probably.
But Edinburgh is a mad god's dream
Fitful and dark,
Unseizable in Leith
And wildered by the Forth,
But irresistibly at last
Cleaving to sombre heights
Of passionate imagining
Till stonily,
From soaring battlements,
Earth eyes Eternity.
We walked past the entrance to the palace of Holyrood house which was austerely impressive and ended up checking out the Abbey Sanctuary that was being repaired. This was that was the traditional haunt of those seeking refuge from debt collectors and they could apply to have an indefinite extension to the twenty four hour sanctuary and therefore not be hung for owing someone a fiver.
They had to stay within a carefully defined 5 mile radius around holyrood park but were free to venture into town on Sundays. Apparently there was a trade in trying to prevent debtors from returning to sanctuary by sundown leading to chases down the Royal Mile as the sun was beginning to set.
We were interrupted from this historical revere by a enthusiastic five foot Scotsman. We could tell he was Scottish because he was wearing a lurid purple shirt that said SCOTLAND in an unnecessarily large font, also the accent, which was not helped by missing most of the important teeth for pronunciation. He was clearly at an advanced stage of refreshment for the very early hour and insisted on telling us all about his favourite subbuteo teams and teaching us the Gaelic for Welsh and Welshman.
We eventually managed to extricate ourselves and started walking up the hill only to be passed by a gentleman swigging a bottle of Tequila-flavoured beer staggering the other way. The name of the beer is Desperado and I can't help feeling he was. Desperate that is.
We picked up the girls, had a bite of breakie (the full Scottish for me natch.) in a cafe called wanderlust and caught the train from Waverley to Uphall station in Livingston and the car trip home.
